Kagome and Marlowe, Conflicting Cultures!
by C.S. Bernard
Summary: Second Installment of The Barbaric Traders arc from aiglon15. Follow Kagome Higurashi into the lion's den and see worlds collide as Captain Marlowe and crewmen plot to destroy Kirara, for profit.
1. Last Time

"Last time, we got into some real trouble. Or, I should say, trouble found us!

"We were minding our own business, when, suddenly, we were attacked by a bunch of really nasty foreigners armed with, what Kagome called, "guns." These weapons are loud, powerful, and downright scary. Using them the Europeans managed to wound Inuyasha, capture Kagome, Sango, and Miroku, and Kirara! If they hadn't taken me, I mean, us, by surprise, I'd have shown those guys what I could do.

"Unfortunately, they took us, or at least the others, to a nearby castle, where they plan to sell their guns to a local lord. First, though, the lord wants the guns tested on a real demon, namely Kirara! Even worse, the Europeans have taken Kagome with them, while everyone else has been locked inside the castle dungeon!

"Looks like it's up to me to use my cunning and skills to save them all!

"…Oh boy…"


	2. Captivity

_**Kagome and Marlowe, Conflicting Cultures!**_

In the dank darkness, she groaned, near whimpering. The short time she had spent in these inhumane conditions seemed to last through several eternities. Every now and again, she made a pitiful whine of disgust as she listened to the rat scurrying and squeaking in a nearby corner. Besides the horrors of this confinement, her imagination conjured up other torments that the cruel Europeans could devise.

When Kagome heard the rattling of the door in the outer hallway, her heart lept into her throat. Her head began spinning uncertain fates through her eyes like a flipbook. Determined not to go down without a bitter fight, she sought out a weapon. Finding none, she decided to use her bare hands. As the footsteps tromped closer, and a candle's light grew brighter, Kagome dashed to a spot next to the door and resolved that she would do her worst.

Tense moments passed as she waited. Finally, the footfalls stopped and the sound of a lock turning jarred the air. A gentle push shoved the door open. Kagome had already clenched her fist and held them over her head. The first thing through the door would feel a mighty blow, she hoped. It was now or never.

"Oy!"

The face that flashed before her caused Kagome to swing wide, miss the target, and lose her balance. Looking up from the foot of the doorway, she saw the familiar face of her companion who spoke in broken words. He wore a disgusted look on his face, as if her bid for freedom was an ill-timed bow or some other social blunder.

"None of that." He still sounded out the words with some difficulty, as though the words were some heavy luggage he was gladly throwing down. "Captain want see you."

Kagome's quizzical expression caused the agitated speaker to sigh in a labored breath. With little other explanation, he then strolled into the cell, stepping over Kagome, and walked to the center. Watching with a confused interest, Kagome overlooked the open door and focused on the lantern the brute was hanging from the ceiling. This done, he stepped over Kagome and through the door. After returning here, he grumbled out a new sentence.

"Captain want you should wear this."

Instantly, he produced a bundle from beside the doorway and tossed next to Kagome. Before she could react, the door slammed shut.

Standing up, Kagome brought the bundle to her waist. Pulling a rough twine out of the way, she unfurled the bundle and found that it was, in fact, a lovely dress. Glancing to the door, she saw the rolling eyes of the delivery boy. He snorted and closed the sliding door over the peephole, showing no interest in Kagome. His blunt rudeness led Kagome to turn her nose up at the sealed portal.

Looking back to the dress, Kagome was unnerved by the "Captain's" intentions. Slowly, however, she began to devise a different opinion. Was this, she thought, the same guy who had scared that letch into leaving me alone?

A closer inspection of the dress revealed that it was much longer than her skirt, not shorter. Definitely a good sign, she hoped. Cupping her chin, Kagome thought on the subject.

Does this guy have a crush on me? If he does, then maybe I can use that to my advantage! Granted, it isn't as easy as asking for my freedom. But, perhaps if I can sweet-talk him the right way, he might try to help the others at the castle. Hopefully, by now, Shippo's gotten to the others and they've come up with an escape plan.

Thinking entirely of her friends' welfare, Kagome was determined to put on the best performance she could. Quickly she began to exchange her blouse and skirt for the single piece dress.

**

* * *

**

Slinking along the castle walls, Shippo was living one of a child's wilder fantasies as a great ninja warrior. Of course, with his store of trickery, Shippo had advantages over most of that cloak and dagger class. Still, he rarely got opportunities to be the hero and felt that he should enjoy this chance to the fullest extent.

Dodging detection at various moments, Shippo was doing quite well. The young fox was thankful that mortal senses were too weak and inattentive to notice him by sight, sound, or even smell. The lad still hoped to have this mission accomplished as soon as possible, however. If those Europeans were still around, they might use their guns on _him_.

Pushing these thoughts away, he resolved to find his friends, regardless. The only worries that refused to be satiated by determination were the concerns about his friends' well being and his ability to find them in time.

"Stop treating me like I was some helpless baby!"

The romantic mist that Shippo had carefully garnered for his covert operation was quickly dissipated by the outburst of a familiar voice. At least he had figured out where Inuyasha was. Though, now, a human child could just as easily have found him as well. Moments later, he sidled up to the small barred window that was the origin point of the half-demon's voice.

"You've fretted over me enough," snarled the black-haired Inuyasha. "Now leave me alone!"

"You should stop being so stubborn," Sango insisted. With her hand on her hip and her finger wagging over Inuyasha's head, Sango appeared to be a mother scolding her rambunctious child.

"The more you agitate yourself, the more you upset the wound" Miroku gave his fatherly addition while sitting at the base of a nearby wall.

Brutish growling was all their entreaties received from the pacing, brooding, Inuyasha. The wound they were concerned with had already gone numb from prolonged suffering, and Inuyasha counted that as a good enough opportunity to pay no mind to it so that he could plan an escape. As if answering his wishes, a voice called out from above.

"You're really too stubborn for your own good," Shippo joined the conversation. "I hope you know that."

Inuyasha was more annoyed than relieved when he beheld his only available rescuer. With an unpleasant smirk, he cast a veiled threat to his young friend. "No, I wasn't aware of that. Remind me to give you a good, _firm_, pat on the head when I get out of here."

Shippo responded to the curt malice with an intelligent raspberry. It was at this moment that Sango and Miroku both huddled around Inuyasha at the foot of the window.

"Are we glad to see you!" Sango spoke in relief.

"Can you tell us anything about the guards, or a means of escape?" Miroku immediately got to business.

"Or more importantly, Kagome?" Inuyasha asked with traces of his temper still lingering.

The latter question caused Shippo to press his face against the bars in furtive glances. Seeing Kagome was absent from the group, he spurted in genuine surprise, "She's not with you? If she isn't here, I have no idea where she could be."

The confused fox-demon's response frustrated and worried his friends. Sango decided to explain, "The foreigners took her."

"Oh no."

"Is that all you've got to say?" Inuyasha snipped. "Didn't you see them hauling her away?"

The child's head shook out a negative.

"Then you don't have _any_ idea where she would be, would you?"

Miroku's inquiry only caused the lad to lower his head, downcast, and mutter a half-hearted, "No."

His mind made up, Inuyasha declared, "That settles it, we're escaping. Now!" Inuyasha glanced to his fellow prisoners, who nodded their agreement. He then turned to Shippo, "And you're going to help us!"

"That sounds like a good idea," Shippo commented. He then tapped his chin in thought, "How are we going to get you guys out of there, though?"

"That's easy," Inuyasha spoke in a superior tone. "We'll just snatch the keys away from the guards." He paused then added with a mean twinkle in his eye, "Or should I say _you'll_ snatch the keys?"

"I don't think that would be all that wise," Miroku interrupted.

"Why's that?" Inuyasha scoffed.

"As you pointed out to us when we were captured, we are, and remain, in no position to try anything brazen. Especially while you're wounded and could get in the way."

Inuyasha took affront with the monk's forthright honesty. He turned on his friend's common senses, wearing a look that he planned to change his mind, manually. "Oh yeah," he snarled. "I'll have you know that I- Ah!"

Inuyasha weakly crumpled to his knees as Sango continued to lightly pinch his tender shoulder. His numbness had completely evaporated, clearing away his mirage, and leaving the barren truth.

"Thank you Sango," Miroku offered.

"More than glad to be of service," Sango replied in a matter of fact tone.

"Now then," Miroku began explaining his own scheme. But, Shippo cut him short.

"Uh-oh," the fox demon panicked.

The three prisoners glanced up to see what had caused Shippo such duress. A short rustling sound later, and their helper had disappeared from sight. Approaching footsteps signaled new company. A guard was soon standing where Shippo had been standing. Tense moments passed as the prisoners shifted about, searching for inconspicuous activities to take part in. Sulking seemed apt.

An amazing thing then occurred that worried the would-be-escapees. The guard sat himself down at the window. Only Shippo was aware that this particular guard had come there to sneak in a nap. It was in his disguised state, as a small statue, that Shippo had been forced into being a reluctant armrest. Regardless of his intentions, the unawares sentry had, in fact, stalled an attempted escape, the size of his achievement being measured in the length of his nap.


	3. Invitation

Kagome was nervous. She was being guided to the captain's quarters, and an uncertain destiny. She had long begun to regret her complicity with the escort's instructions. It was still a complete mystery to her why the guard gathered up her other clothes and brought these with them. Kagome was further unnerved by the gruff commands the escort would blurt out whenever they would come to an intersection in the ship's passageways. Simple, "left" or "right", commands issued from over her shoulder would steer her to their destination. The macabre nature of this journey greatly worried the young girl. Eventually, Kagome and her guard reached the flight of stairs that would take them above deck. As soon as Kagome was at the top of the stairs, she was assailed by loud cries.

These howls from foreign throats were completely alien in language to her. But, she could discern that these were sentiments being articulated by men who had been without female companionship for an unknown time.

_"Ha! Lookit 'er! Lil' 'eathen almost passes fer a **real** woman!"_

_"Old Marlowe knows how to pick them, don't he lads?"_

_"That he does!"_

_"Think 'e'll fancy a lil' dip fer someone else?"_

_"Ho-ho! He hasn't let us down before!"_

The snarling dogs frightened her. From various angles she could see the dripping fangs flashing at her. A surge of relief flooded her heart when she was finally brought to the small cabin door. Anywhere was better than on the main deck with dozens of eyes leering at her. Stepping in front of her, the guard proceeded to knock.

_"Enter!"_

The guard swung the door open and both he and Kagome walked in. Upon entering, Kagome was somewhat impressed.

While the two foreigners had a small exchange of words, Kagome glanced around the room. The broad windows along the back of the room had a bench with a few cushions atop it. In a far corner, a standing desk with maps and books gave an air of a businessman's abode. Along the wall opposite to the desk a simple bed was neatly made. A series of shelves were anchored to the wall next tothe desk. Prominently situated in the center of the room a rugged tabled presided with four chairs in attendance. Kagome continued to scrutinize the room, checking to find any details that might inform her as to what kind of host had invited her here.

Her search led Kagome to take notice of a small portrait at her immediate right. The painting was of a woman, a grand woman at that. Her dress was a luxurious gown that was stitched with a multitude of pearls lining its exterior. These baubles were highlighted by the golden threadwork that bore out the pearls, like small buds ready to bloom. The material was a beautiful white satin that billowed out at the shoulders and hugged the torso tightly. From the waist, down, the gown gracefully widened into elegant dimensions, eventually reaching the floor.

The woman herself was impressive, to the point of demanding the viewer's attention, perhaps more. Her eyes, windows into a powerful and defiant soul, held a gaze that dictated that the viewer recognize her forthright personality. A shocking red mane, a well kempt flame of passions, compounded this. There was a contrast, however.

These eyes, and hair, that issued forth such prominence were set in soft, white, flesh, speaking of the tender existence of the subject. The woman's skin was very pale, with credit, undoubtedly, due to heavy cosmetics. This spoke volumes about a life where physical exposure to the sun was limited, and labors that were done, were done behind closed doors. Her lips, thin and effeminate, belonged to a soft speaker. The only other visible trait belonged to this woman's slender hands, which were unsullied by manual labor. These hands wielded other talents.

In her left hand, a regal walking stick had aided the subject to stand for a long period of time, perhaps for the amount of time necessary to stand for a portrait. Her right hand clutched a sword, long and tapering, with its tip gently resting on the ground. The way she held the sword was, apparently lax, but - one could imagine - this didn't make the sword any less dangerous.

The door's closing took Kagome's focus from the painting in time to realize that she was now alone with whatever kind of man had forcibly requested her company back at the castle. This man, in spite of her short-lived effort to discern that he kept a tidy abode, still was a mystery. He was presently walking towards the standing desk, her school attire in his hand. Once he reached the desk, he tossed the bundle on the bench. He then turned to the desk and a large leather-bound book. Producing a quill from a nearby inkwell, he began loudly scratching the implement across the pages.

It was at this time that Kagome, in a less panicked state, began sensing a familiar force. A few moments of honing her mind to the aura, she quickly deduced that some Shikon jewel shards were nearby. There, in a hip pocket on her captor's breeches, she saw the jewel shards, glowing like tiny stars.

One, two, three… Wait. Those are _my_ jewel shards!

Kagome watched his pocket with a fervent interest. She dared not to make immediate mention of them. The less she said, the less she'd be accountable for.

How did he get them? Probably got them from that nasty character that captured us. He sure moves quickly for a kidnapper. Oh well. No use crying now. Good thing he's not from around here. He doesn't know what those jewel shards can really do. …I hope.


	4. Entertainments

An outstanding characteristic concerning Richard Marlowe was the fact that, once committed to a task, he preferred to finish before moving on. To this end, he was aware of, yet ignored, his waiting guest of the evening. First, however, before he lost his train of thought and forgot any important details, he insisted on finishing his entry into the ship's log.

Samuels proved speedier in his duties than Marlowe had given him credit for and had returned with the young Japanese before he could finish his own task, which, he felt, would take a shorter amount of time than Samuels's appointed objective could be completed. For this reason, and many others, Samuels always was a good crewman.

Finishing his entry, Marlowe set the quill back in its inkwell and left the book lying as was, to allow the ink to properly dry. The last sentence written stated, _"She has arrived."_

Marlowe was all smiles as he abruptly spun around to greet his guest. "You'll have to pardon my delay," he said in perfectly, apologetic, Japanese. "You'll also have to forgive my appearance as well."

Marlowe was referring to his unbuttoned doublet, which bore out his ruffled white undershirt. Kagome saw nothing wrong in this. It was a subtle reminder of the more rigid social standards of the era she was visiting, in both Eastern, and now Western, conduct. But, this was unimportant to her, as she placed abduction slightly higher on her list of gaffes.

Marlowe walked over to the table and pulled out the chair closest to her. Still smiling, he offered, "Would you like a seat?"

Kagome regarded this man, with his chair. Weighing fear and disgust in her mind, she resolved that with a combination of these two, untrustworthiness, she should take the chair, since there were no obvious hazards involved with doing so. Quietly, she walked over to the chair and sat down. Her host helped slide the chair back under the table, then walked to the opposite side.

"Allow me to introduce myself," said he, slightly bowing at the waist. "My name is Captain Richard Marlowe in the service of the English East India Company."

A few moments passed as Kagome absorbed the cordiality of her host-captor. It was unsettling for him to be behaving in such a manner. With brutes, you automatically have reason to fear and act accordingly. But, with men such as this, like a Miroku or, even worse, a Sesshomaru, who veiled their intentions behind a polite or equivocal façade, you have reason to be suspicious, since they were typically more cunning, and oftentimes more dangerous.

"Young Lady."

Kagome fastened her eyes to Marlowe's cool gaze. She had been glancing at his pocket, and the radiant shards, considering them along with her host's behavior. Had he noticed that she had been staring?

"I'm sorry, but you seem to have neglected your introduction?"

Kagome was slightly relieved that he hadn't caught her slight glancing. She spoke up.

"My name," she said, clearing her throat, "is Kagome."

"Ka-go-me," the Englishman sounded it out. "Kagome," he said the name with a whimsical air. "What a lovely name."

Kagome remained on the defensive. The less said, the less information she would be handing to this duplicitous host. It was at this moment a tapping noise came to the door. Both Kagome and Marlowe turned to the sound.

_"Enter!"_

The visitor, who was revealed to be a small boy whose skin was a healthy hue of dark brown, pushed the door open. His clothes were less prestigious, but of the same style as Marlowe's. His doublet and breeches were a matching tan, while his stockings were off-white. His small shoes, almost like an elf's were a dull reddish-brown. The youth was encumbered with a small pot, two bowls, two loaves, a ladle, and spoons.

_"Ah, Polaris!"_

The small African smiled at the captain's greeting. He quickly scuttled over to the table with his wares. As Marlowe seated himself, the boy, Polaris, set a bowl before him, with a loaf and spoon. Polaris then turned to set out Kagome's placements. When he actually looked Kagome in the face, he was startled and froze in place, as though he were a frightened deer.

Kagome stared back into the small face. The situation was painfully awkward. Kagome didn't know what to make of the Europeans, let alone this other little stranger from an entirely different world. Even in her own time, Kagome, for lack of African visitors to her home, had no such acquaintances. Now, centuries in the past, this Nubian lad who was holding, remarkably, similar thoughts, was gawking at her with equal amazement.

The boy turned to Marlowe with a perplexed, if not apprehensive, bulge in his eyes. The captain smiled. _"Go ahead. It's only business,"_ he coaxed.

Casting sidelong glances out the corner of his eye, aimed at the first – female – Asian guest the cabin had accommodated, Polaris resumed his task. Once her bowl, spoon, and loaf were placed before the stranger, Polaris then began to ladle out steaming servings of a stew that filled the air with the mixed smell of spices. Having accomplished the final phase of his duty, the young boy was happily prepared to leave. Before he could get too far along in his departure, however, Marlowe grabbed his shoulder.

_"Hold on a moment,"_ the captain said with a commanding tone.

Polaris turned to face him.

_"You've done a good job,"_ Marlowe smiled, _"you deserve a treat."_

Polaris was instantly smiling, as any child would at such an offer.

_"Go to the galley,"_ Marlowe instructed, _"and have Mr. Crane give you a pudding."_ Knowing that such a rare treat aboard ship would attract undesired attention, Marlowe added a few other words. _"And, if Mr. Crick bothers you, bash him over the head."_

Both the man and boy's smiles broadened.

_"If that doesn't cool his temper, I'll have him keelhauled."_

Polaris was enthused enough to speak in what English he knew, _"Tank ye cappy-tan!"_ Having said this, the youth dashed off in pursuit of his reward, the kettle merrily clanging at this side.

Such events, so common to those who lived aboard ship, were utterly foreign and bizarre to Kagome. She had experienced the social hierarchy in the feudal era, but rarely did she see outright slavery. Even stranger was the polite manner to which Marlowe had treated the young boy. For her, throughout history, slavery was always described using the most negative, most violent, imagery. Never had bondage seemed so lax as had just been demonstrated to her. Yet, was it truly so refined?

Witnessing the small scene, spoken in a different language, Kagome had noticed the condescending way with which Marlowe smiled and calmly caressed the boy's arm. Short of patting him on the head and saying "good boy", the white captain seemed to regard the boy like a favorite dog, not as someone that could, one day, be his intellectual equal.

"I know it's rather late."

Marlowe's voice brought Kagome from her latest round of reveries.

"But, a good conversation could do with a small dish."

Marlowe was already digging into his food, placing his spoon into his bowl and grabbing his loaf. Kagome looked to her food.

The stew was an admixture of beef, various foreign vegetables, which she readily recognized from her own time, and foodstuffs that she recognized as existing in the local area. It smelled heavily of indefinable spices, most likely preservative herbs, since refrigeration was a madman's dream amongst this era. Having already been disturbed from her sleep and realizing that the chance of another meal being served soon was small, she found the stew to be rather tempting.

"Are you a princess, Kagome?"

A sharp crackling sound followed the question. Kagome glared up at him in surprise, while Marlowe calmly lowered a portion of his bread into the stew.

"What? What would make you think I'd be a princess?"

"Four travelers, passing through the forest," the Englishman began calmly. "A swordsman, a monk, two women, and a magnificent creature, the likes of which I've never seen before, domesticated."

As Marlowe tended to his soaking portion of bread with his spoon, Kagome spoke with an incredulous air. Completely lost to his logic, she said, "How can any of that be proof that I'm a princess?"

"That excitable lad in red, the swordsman, was obviously a bodyguard; the other woman, your lady-in-waiting. The holy man, obviously, was a tutor, perhaps a confessor. Lastly, your pet was far too obedient to simply be a good companion, it was a trained killer, an excellent attack animal."

"Now hold on a minute," she flared, "just because we're four friends traveling through the woods doesn't mean we're who you think we are!"

Marlowe had a dull look in his eyes, as if totally uninterested in what the girl had to say. He reached into the soup bowl and took out the piece of bread he had lain in the stew. He quietly placed the soaked loaf in his mouth and began chewing it. He then, calmly stood up from the table and walked over to the bench. He spun on his heel, after having picked up the school uniform, and strode back to the table.

Setting the blouse down, he swallowed, and then spoke, "Then what about this?"

Kagome reassumed the defensive. She was apprehensive of telling this man anything about her true identity since senseless gabbing would surely lead to ruin. Nonchalantly, she asked, "What about it?"

"The material," said the English, rubbing the textile between his thumb and index, "I've never seen any peasant wear it. For that matter, I've never seen a nobleman wear anything like it either."

Though others had accosted her over the style of her clothing, Kagome had rarely been asked about its material. Of course, she had rarely had that many merchants and traders ask her about her clothes. Even more important, she had met very few Englishmen in this time period. Details, details…

"This material," he continued, "is of a superior quality. The colors are too drab for a peasant. It's for that reason, Kagome, that I think you're somebody very special. Somebody that could prove invaluable to me."

Kagome seemed leery of this. Was this it? Was he flirting with her? She blurted out a mild surprise at his words, "Are you trying to woo me?"

The air in the cabin became very still. The only sound that could be heard was the lapping of the water against the hull of the ship, the sound floating up to the open window. Without the least bit of prior notice, Marlowe began roaring. Roaring with laughter.

"Ha! Ha! My god Kagome! That's the damn funniest thing I've heard in the entire time I've been to these god-forsaken islands!"

Kagome somehow felt less remarkable upon hearing this jocular remark. Wasn't her appearance suitable to his standards? Miroku and Koga certainly never doubted her beauty. But, they were Japanese.

Marlowe's mirth subsided somewhat. Clearing his throat with a firm cough, he resumed speaking. "No," a smile flashed across his lips, "no. Kagome, I assure you, my crew may be depraved enough to mate with the women of this island, but that's they're business. Instead, I think you could serve a higher purpose than that."

Kagome dared to know what this "higher purpose" could be, "Which is?"

Again, Marlowe smiled. He then reached into his pocket, his left pocket. The same pocket which held the jewel shards.

"Oh."

Does know what the jewel shards can do? Kagome carefully examined the situation in her mind's eye. Maybe… maybe he just thinks the jewel shards are simple gemstones. But, what if he gets greedy? What if he wants more of them?

"What about those?" she ventured. "What do you want to know about them?"

"How did you come to possess them? After all no peasant carries gems around on their person, at least not without meeting a quick death at the hands of brigands and thieves. Yet…"

"Yet?"

"Yet, you're no princess, either."

"What?" Kagome was flabbergasted with the man's capricious nature. "You said I was!"

"I wasn't being serious," said he in a matter of fact tone. "You don't behave like a princess, or even like a proper Lady. I mean, really. What self-respecting member of the fairer sex would dare traipse around in such savage clothing."

Suddenly, the mini-skirt was held up. Marlowe held the fringe of it, as though it were some diseased rag. The way he talked though, he was waving it around like a bloody shirt: evidence of her lewd and improper behavior.

This character assassination did not go unnoticed however. Kagome's face, especially her fine cheeks, reddened with embarrassment and fury. She jumped to her feet.

"How dare you say such a thing!" Her voice was livid, "You-"

"I don't care!"

Kagome was stunned to silence by the fearsome roar that the captain unleashed. He, too, had jumped to his feet, his frame towering over hers, the table being the only thing interceding between them.

Sitting back down, a cooler look glossing over his eyes, Marlowe took up his spoon. He spoke thusly, "I do not know who you are. Nor do I care _what_ you are. From my observations, I know one thing and one thing only. You are a very perplexing woman, savage in all mannerisms and language, even by the standards of Japanese women. Most important of all, though, you are a rarity, a unique creature. I can use that."

**

* * *

He stunk. He was heavy. Worst of all he snored.**

Shippo was miserable, and steadily getting worse. The strain on him, from both supporting the weight of this human and maintaining his illusory form was too much. He was actually surprising himself with the stamina he had maintained to this point. He needed relief, though, and soon. Meanwhile, the situation within the prison was equally tense, although, for vastly differing reasons.

As it happened, Miroku and Inuyasha had come to the conclusion that they needed to be active. If just to fool the guard into thinking they had resolved themselves to their fate. Their preoccupation of choice was to play a game that Kagome had recently taught them: Tic-Tac-Toe. After all, without any proper game pieces, there wasn't anything else to improvise. At least here, they simply required the floor and two pieces of brick that had fallen from the wall.

Miroku chose "Os", while Inuyasha preferred "Xs". Sango? She chose to sit to the sidelines and choose a disgusted visage. So far two "battles" had resulted in a victory for Inuyasha, while two had decided in favor of Miroku. This next one would be the deciding match.

The game was mentally demanding on each player as an "O" would be placed on the "field" and an "X" would counter its move. "O… X… O… X…" the match ground on. Suddenly, Inuyasha spotted the fatal breach in Miroku's defenses. He was positive of victory. "O."

"What?"

He could believe it. Miroku had seen the breach as well. Worse, two more moves and the board would be full.

Inuyasha was ready to choke the smug monk who serenely declared, "I believe that's game, and we're at an even match."

"That's the problem," snarled the temporary human.

"Now, now. I think it's comforting to know that we're equally good players."

"Oh yeah?"

A cough. Both turned to face a peevish Sango.

"If you two boys are done playing, do you think we could focus on something more important? Like an escape?"

"Right, sorry," Miroku offered.

Sango sighed, "Well, while you two were goofing off, _I_ came up with a plan."

Two pairs of eyebrows were raised by this news.

"Don't give me those surprised looks! I had _plenty_ of time to think this through."

Huddling into a group with her fellow inmates, the demon-slayer began elucidating her scheme. In whispers, her plan for a modest escape was mapped out.


	5. Cruel Fate

"You should sit down. Your food is getting cold."

Kagome was unresponsive to the polite words, which were more insulting than they were comforting. She was especially in opposition to the fact that her, blatantly, rude host was keeping a straight face while being so obnoxious to her.

"Come now, you should take in my hospitality." Marlowe waved his hand in a generous fashion toward the cooling bowl of stew on her end of the table.

Kagome, who had remained standing for the past few minutes, was openly protesting her treatment thus far, even going so far as to remain silent and turn her nose up at her host's "hospitality." She stood resolute in this position.

Marlowe, upon realizing the objective intended, sighed. "Very well then," he said wearily, "if you refuse to share a bit of stew with me, then you'll be staying in the galley and be celebrated as the guest of honor there. Of course, once you leave my cabin, I'll require that you return the clothes I loaned you…" Marlowe paused, a wicked glint flashed from his eye as he gently tapped Kagome's regular clothes with his fingers, "and since I couldn't stand the thought of you going about in a harlot's dressings: I will keep those as well."

Kagome faltered from her high horse. She glared at the English.

"You wouldn't."

Marlowe remained silent. Why should he speak? The spiteful stare she gave the barbarian only drove him to simply spoon out more of his stew, while locking eyes with her. Suddenly, it became all too clear for Kagome. She was bound without chains; imprisoned without a cage. The calm eyes that quietly stared back sapped all her strength as she saw deep into this man, and realized he was, despite whatever cruelties he wielded, a man of his word, that he made no threats, only promises.

"Now. Sit."

Kagome was not a _hanyo_, nor did she have a rosary draped around her neck, yet she slowly obeyed. The weight on her head caused her legs to buckle, and giving herself to the same resignation as a condemned prisoner, she sat. The bowl of stew before her was cold, and, now, entirely unappetizing.

"Now, if you will behave," Marlowe continued, as if neglecting everything that had happened to this point, "I have some more questions for you."

Kagome looked up and noticed that Marlowe had finished his stew. He had devoured it.

"I've said I don't care who, or even what you are. But, what I want to know is, where you are from."

"Huh?" Kagome was roused by this direct query.

"There," he said, wagging his finger at her, "there is something different about you. You're not like everyone else on those islands out there."

"What about it?" Her question was laden with a sardonic tone. This man was oblivious of, or insensitive to, her simmering disgust. His calm demeanor was making her ill; his every word was unbearable. Yet, he continued to speak.

"You're going to be my Malinche, the key that opens more trading posts for me."

"Why? So you can sell more of your guns? So you can profit off of killing and war?"

Marlowe remained calm, aloof. His eyes remained fathomless, indiscernible. Suddenly, Kagome was blasted with another salvo of laughter. Strangely enough, it was relaxing to hear someone laughing. But, she wished, from the bottom of her heart, it was one of her friends, and not this man making merry, whose sense of humor had been poisoned long ago.

"My goodness," said the captain, a hint of mirth still in his throat, "dear girl, do you mean to jest with me, or are you being serious? I do hope it is the former."

Kagome, seeing an opportunity, ascended to a new position of moral supremacy, "From what I've seen of your guns, they're terrible weapons with nothing but evil in them."

A crocodile's smile signaled that Marlowe was ready for a third fit of laughs, but he resisted, instead saying in an obvious tone, "Silly girl! They're weapons! Of course they're going to kill things, that's what they're made for!"

From an era of peace and prosperity, Kagome hurled her more advanced morality at the captain, "And you're fine with that? Selling them to people, so they can kill each other?"

Kagome considered it a victory when Marlowe didn't respond. He turned his head away, looking toward the open window. He had a look of deep contemplation. Perhaps, she had stunned him into this silence, caused him to make an ethical introspection of himself.

Kagome shrieked as the quiet English jumped to his feet, sidestepped the table and lunged straight for her throat, clutching it in his hands. She was frozen in place, feeling the cold lifelessness in his eyes, as the rough, calloused palms that held her neck in another's hands began scratching her skin. She had no idea what to do, scream for help, fight back, or faint.

Without warning, Marlowe then dropped his hands. Kagome relaxed considerably, though shaken, shaken to the point of quivering, and calmly massaged her agitated neck. Standing over her, Marlowe was not unlike a lion regarding a helpless mouse between his paws.

"Kagome," he said, flatly, "if it were my desire, just now, I could have easily destroyed you. I could have tightened my grip, slowly, and bit by bit, deprived you of your life, leaving you a hollow shell."

Kagome was unmindful of this. She stared at him, still unsure of her safety. She continued to stare at him, absent-mindedly.

"You see, young Kagome," he was addressing her, as if they were in her era, in class, and he were one of her teachers. His manner of speaking was such that he was explaining an equation and its solution, for the third time, to a chronically poor student, "Your kinsmen, your fellow Japanese, out there, on those islands are, at this very moment, at war with each other.

"They are using, and will continue to use, every means at their disposal to murder each other, ending the lives of whomever stands in their way. Women, children, they are innocents, but they are not spared. Your kinsman, would happily use rocks, their bare hands even," he paused to show her his hands, "whatever they could, to get what they want.

"Yet, they rarely use their hands, Kagome. They have swordsmen, pikemen, archers, cavalrymen, mercenaries, spies, and assassins. No, Kagome, they will not use their hands and rocks. They have no desire for that. They desire, they lust, for power. So, to feed their lust, they will use whatever else becomes available to them. Including my guns."

A pause. There was no telling its true purpose. Was it for drama or was it an absent-minded lapse on the part of the speaker? Regardless, Kagome made her own use of it. She began to dig down deep.

"And what of you Kagome? Was it not in the personal belongings of your traveling band that you possessed an old, rusty sword and a quiver of arrows and a bow? If I'm not mistaken, those are deadly instruments, are they not?"

She was finding something, a solemn item, "We use those for self-defense. We don't go around murdering people."

"I see. And you never kill anyone when they attack you?"

"No. Our weapons don't always kill when we defend ourselves. Not like your guns, right? Those cruel things; you don't even have to hit the person directly, right? All you have to do is hit them and their bullets will poison them, or break their bones, right? Like Inuyasha?"

The English smiled, "Come now, if your friend's a strong sort, he'll pull through. If he's lucky, he'll keep his arm."

"You're a heartless and cruel man!" Kagome didn't stand up; instead, she browbeat the English from her chair. "You don't care, at all, do you? You and your guns, you're nothing but murdering monsters! You have no shame!"

Marlowe's face wrinkled, as though he had smelled something, particularly, foul. His nostrils sounded from the expulsion of a great amount of air, he slid his hands into his pockets, turned away from his guest, slowly stepped over to the open window. A moment of quiet reflection on his part prompted Kagome to feel she had, finally, scored a hit.

"It's a fairy tale, isn't?"

Kagome was mystified by the expression of disgust on her opponent's face. More so by his words, which were uttered as he was faced her.

"Stupid little girl." Marlowe paced back, his hands swinging at his sides. He came to a stop, towering over her. He leaned forward, and placed his hand on the table. They were but inches apart when he said, "You sound like one of those damned foolish lords of the islands. There are a number of them who are too haughty, too sure of their purity, to grime their hands with black powder. Even the ones who consider buying them always try to demean them, calling them 'coward's weapons.' Well, let me tell you another story, a real story.

"I remember a certain lord, some miles back down the coast, who declined to purchase our weapons. He was a very polite man, a very noble man. He treated us with great magnanimity, but stopped short of being a gracious customer. He calmly explained to me that our weapons were wrong. They were 'crude weapons.' Nasty implements that created acrid smoke, soiled a warrior's garments with their need for black powder, and even allowed a common peasant to strike down a samurai without much skill or personal greatness. Notwithstanding, though, he did send us on our merry way, with the friendly farewells of a highborn man.

"We sailed up the coast, to the noble lord's not so noble rival. He despised us, insulted me time and again, and made all possible efforts to make us withdraw from his lands, short of actually killing us, which he undoubtedly considered. Yet, it wasn't until I ordered that a salvo of culverin shot be fired from our port side that I got his attention. Initially horrified that our cannon could pierce the oak timbers of his ragged fortress, the lord of this somewhat impoverished territory soon became a great friend to us. Forgetting what our demonstration had done to his home, he became possessed with the idea of purchasing every single firearm we had."

Marlowe chuckled a moment, "Damned savage, I think he had to squeeze every drop of wealth, no matter how small, from every last peasant in his domain, no matter how poor they were, to buy everything we had. He didn't stop there either! Training for soldiers, methods of producing more weapons, trading rights for more powder and ammunition, not to mention everything else requisite for trade with England, he bought it all.

"Not all that long ago, I had heard that the great noble lord, who had treated us so kindly, was dead. His larger domain, inherited from his noble father and protected by many brave samurai, had become the property of his rival, a man who couldn't trace his lineage that far back. Perhaps to a father, who hadn't married the mother, yet had foresight enough to see an heir when he had one. So it is that the nobleman, the 'great lord,' who held himself too good to take up a gun, is now buried beneath the rotting corpses of his brave honor guard, with an ounce of lead occupying the place where his noble principles held sway over his infantile mind."

Except for his chuckle, Marlowe had remained hard, cold, during his speech. It was crushing axe that smashed its way through much of Kagome's views on the world: that which she held dear, she held close to her, like sweet, lazy, Buyo. Marlowe had, with full intention of doing so, annihilated her darling pet with his blunt axe. She didn't believe him when he said, "I'm sorry, but that's what life is all about."

"How can you talk like that? How can you be so cruel?"

"My dear girl," Marlowe seemed back on the verge of another cannonade of laughter, he then turned deadly serious, and "I _intend_ to make a fortune on the piggish stupidity of the warlords here, for as long as I can. For all I care, the whole of the island could plunge itself into the ocean. That's how a proper merchant is supposed to behave. If I were like those incompetent Spaniards and only traded with certain people, then I would be a much poorer man. That is also why we English and the Dutch are slowly replacing those stupid Iberians in numerous domains. It's all business."

No sooner than Marlowe had finished his speech, a knock came at the door.

"_Yes?_"

It was the man who spoke poor Japanese.

"_They say that we may return to the castle._"

"_Good._" Marlowe glanced toward Kagome, "_It's just as well._"

The poorly versed man saluted and closed the door behind him.

Marlowe let out a slight sigh, and turned to Kagome, "Well, it has been a good evening thus far. But, we must be on our way."

"We? Where are we going," Kagome asked with surprised interest.

"Back to the castle," Marlowe spoke into his chest as he buttoned up his doublet, "we have a demonstration to perform."

"Demonstration?" Kagome was silent a moment or two, then her eyes alighted in grave concern, "Wait, you don't mean we're going back to the castle… to-"

"To kill that pet of yours? Yes." He had finished the statement just as briskly as he had finished buttoning his clothes.

"Kirara?"

He ignored the furtive worries in the girl's face and voice, "Whatever you call it." With cold disinterest, he calmly gathered up his cloak and hat, while speaking, "We're going to honor that superstitious old man's wishes and kill that 'demon' of yours. Satiated, he'll be quick to beginning trade with the Company, immediately. Thereafter, you'll be coming with us, to visit other domains."

There it was: Kagome's fate, decided out of her control. This man, whoever he thought himself to be, was going to kill one of her dearest friends, separate her from the rest of her friends, and her home…

"Wait," she said, panic and rage slipping into her as she realized what was transpiring against her, "you're kidnapping me?"

"Hardly," he spat, "more like civilizing. You're going to become a member of my crew and visit other domains. You'll be an invaluable asset in dealing with future clients. Aside from being a Japanese, you're also a woman, and will help to make dealing with recalcitrant lords easier."

Fearing for her virtues, Kagome snapped, "Wait, are you saying I'm supposed become a samurai's plaything?"

"I wouldn't worry about that," he coolly stated, now dressed in his full attire. "I don't run a brothel, and you won't be expected to behave as though you were employed in one. Nor will you be asked to please the men aboard. You'll have your own quarters and anything else that can be spared, just like my servant Polaris."

"Do you mean I'm going to be a slave for you?"

The acid in the words rolled off Marlowe's back, as though they were water and he was a duck. "I said servant. Now. I've had my fill of this, Kagome. You're coming with me." He stepped forward and loomed over Kagome, "Come along, now, we must be going."

Kagome stood up wearing a look of pure defiance. Haughtily, she turned her nose up, and sniffed the air, "Very well, _Captain_, lead the way."

"Better," he flatly stated. The door was opened and a resistant young woman stepped out on the main deck, followed by an insistent ship's captain.

I hope Shippo's managed to the others free by now…


	6. The Eleventh Hour

"_Mr. Samuels!_"

"_Sir!_"

"_Have twelve of our best marksmen assembled and armed with gunnery equipment. We must, and will, kill that creature, **tonight**. We can't allow it to limp away under the pretense that it's immortal, lest we be denied a handsome sum of gold and silver_."

"_Sir._"

"_Also, this is a delicate situation, and I'm not particularly trusting of the lord's opinions of us. You remember what happened on Shikoku._"

"_Not a day goes by that I don't forget._"

"_Good. I want you to gather together my personal armaments from the hold and bring them with us to the shore._"

"_Sir._"

"_Oh, and be sure to bring Mr. Crick along. I certainly don't want him thinking that he would be left out of tonight's planned events_."

"_Sir, yes sir!_"

"_There's a good man. But, please, try not to smile that much when you talk with Mr. Crick. You even make **me** think you'll enjoy the look on his face too fondly._"

**

* * *

**

"Are we ready?"

"To the best of our circumstances."

"Okay then, let's do this."

Inuyasha was making a quick confirmation of Sango's plan and its preparations. It was modest in aims, but it was going to require some small degree of finesse. The timing, above all else, would have to be precise.

"I think you're enjoying this a little too much, Miroku."

Sango's was a commentary bubbling with muted rage. She knew that he was, undoubtedly, enjoying his good fortunes that Inuyasha's shoulder was far too agitated to hoist a human's body; a human _female's_ body.

"Dearest Sango," he, unconvincingly, demonstrated his innocence in calm tones, "I have no idea what you are talking about. I am, if anything else, overjoyed with the fact that our incarceration will soon be over."

The admonition was hard to accept, of course. Physical evidence of the monk's guilt was on display as he quietly rubbed his fingers along whatever portion of Sango's thigh he could manage to tinker with. Even more damning proof was found in a face that slightly reddened, not from embarrassment, though he should be ashamed, regardless.

All of this drove Inuyasha to lament, "For crying out loud. Can't you take this seriously?"

A shortness of time and patience compelled Miroku to hold his peace. Of course, compulsion to do so had manifested itself in a very strong, if small, fist. The monk reeled a moment or two from Sango's familiar violence towards his "harmless" antics.

"Now," she commanded, "take me to the window."

As an abraded lump swelled atop Miroku's crown, he meekly complied. The human totem pole arrived at the window after two steps, whereat Sango began to set her plan in motion. Taking a deep breath, she hoped that everything would fall into place. Her one merit was that her temper was still in play.

At least Miroku serves that much of a purpose: keeping me mad.

**

* * *

**

Kijiro Nairuta was a simple peasant who had grown tired of standing ankle deep in rice paddies. When His Lordship's retainer came to the village seeking healthy young men, he was easily tempted into exploring a, hopefully, more adventurous life in soldiery. It wasn't long until he had found himself in an ashigaru unit, marching off to the great affairs known as battles that made samurai living legends, and made peasants into samurai.

Unfortunately, his explorations reached a dead end. Nairuta had quickly discovered that samurai of high quality were required at the front. Ashigaru were better fit for guard duty. So it was that the life of a military "hero" was just as dull as the life of the peasant in a paddy. The only real difference, as far as Nairuta had discovered, was the fact he now held a yari in the hand that just effectively wielded a hoe. Of course, there was one thing Nairuta did like about his newest occupation.

Being a less motivated "warrior," Nairuta had soon learned of prime pieces of ground suited for napping, something he rarely got to take part in back in the village. Of course, he had already explained, to himself, how it was that he could sleep with a clean conscience. Night shift was always the quieter shift, he had learned, as well as the fact that he was only lightly prepared for battle, sporting a cheap helmet, a cheap breastplate, cheap shin guards, and a cheap yari. Of course, this would protect him. From an inexperienced assailant, that is. But, an expert ninja could quickly dispatch him. This was something that he had accepted, with a macabre resignation, as something that, if fated to happen, would happen, regardless of his economical weaponry. It was thanks to an education such as his that had taught the already shiftless peasant to be an equally shiftless guard. Hence, why he was soundly sleeping, if for only so long.

**

* * *

**

A dull-sounding, open-palmed, smack snapped across the guard's backside with enough force to awaken him and cause him to roll over from his armrest and land face first in the dirt. With a bottom and top equally agitated, the annoyed sentry spun around, scrambling up onto his hands and knees. With ire in his teeth, he spat at the obvious assailant, "Wench! Why did you hit me?"

Sango's look was of smug self-righteousness and haughty judgment. "You were asleep at your post. That's not what a guard should be doing. Where are you loyalties?"

This was a man who had accepted conscription some time ago, with open arms. As his voluntary action became a mandatory one, though, he had come to detest his job. Still, he felt immediate indignation that anyone would call his honor into question, regardless of his laxity at the time. Worse, it was a prisoner, a female prisoner, who would dare speak to a man in his position, and in such a tone.

"How dare you!"

The insulted guardsman would gladly have said something, anything, much worse than that. However, his words had log-jammed in his throat, since he was trying to push his limited vocabulary through all at once. Instead, he sputtered a moment or two and mentally resolved that physical abuse would satisfy him faster than verbal assaults would. As such, he began grasping for his yari. Remaining on all fours, he continued searching for his weapon.

"Looking for this?"

The low-level soldier squinted at the small child before him, Shippo, for a moment or two. Realizing that he was, on the one hand, a fox-demon, and, on the other hand, clutching a guard's weapon in his small hands, the sentry panicked and made an effort to jump to his feet. Instead of landing solidly, his feet failed him, and he landed on his, already sore, backside.

Shippo raised the heavy spear-weapon as high as he could, with the full intention of punishing the guard for his insensitive napping. With all his force, and the benefit of gravity, Shippo brought the heavy weight in the yari's base to bear. The guard, for his part, realized the necessity for the helmet he had easily discarded earlier. It got in his way while sleeping, but would have certainly obstructed the blow to his head, if he were wearing it. Immobilized, the guard's consciousness was ended by a secondary blow. With two rough welts forming on his crown, Kijiro Nairuta fell into a contusion-induced nap. He began dreaming of how life in the rice paddy was suddenly more enticing.

**

* * *

**

Somewhere between the castle and the shore, and sometime between yesterday and tomorrow, the small procession wound its way to a fateful event. The grim cavalcade of fourteen men and a single maiden passed through the forest with considerable noise. Bandoliers, loaded with cartridges of gunpowder clicked and clacked as the men on foot trudged along the path. In the center of the small column the only female accompanied the only man on horseback.

Kagome sullenly traipsed forward, her hands bound in shackles, a change to the ropes the gnawed at her wrists. Instead, the cold metal chilled her wrists and, when combined with cool night air, made her fingers hurt. The chain that restricted her hopes of escape jingled solemnly with each step. A few feet behind her, a pudgy little man who showed her nothing but utter disdain marched along, the end of the chain clasped firmly in his meaty digits.

Marlowe, in great contrast, rode along with as much imposing appearance as before. However, the feeling of power was heightened by a few additions to his personal appearance. Strapped across his back and chest, a heavy iron breastplate gave the appearance of an invincible warrior. A pair of holsters, slung over the horse's back, just in front of the saddle carried the most advanced firearm in the crew: a pair of flintlock pistols. A second brace of pistols, invisible due to the cloak, were mounted in a two loops fixed into the lower back of the breastplate. Lastly, a double-edged sword occupied a scabbard buckled to Marlowe's waist. Aside from the obvious appearance of such dangerous implements, Marlowe banked on giving a show of such force that the lord would not have an excuse to decline a purchase. But, the lord was a secondary thought at the moment.

Riding along, staring straight ahead Marlowe spoke, "Why are you so silent Kagome?"

Kagome stole a nasty glance in his direction, "Because. I'm a prisoner."

The manacles didn't pinch and chafe her, since they were designed for manlier wrists. If Kagome were more flexible, there was an excellent chance that she would be able to slip free the loose binds. However, her school never offered lessons in contortion. Which was just as well. It would be another class she would be behind in.

"Now, now," Marlowe attempted a soothing tone, still not looking at her, "it's for your own good. If you were allowed to walk about freely, you'd be tempted to flee. Then, Mr. Samuels and the men would have to fire upon you."

"If it weren't for you," she glared fiercely at him, "they wouldn't have to shoot me."

With applied leg pressure, the horse halted, causing the entire procession to come to a complete stop. Since there was some distance between her and the two men ahead of her, Kagome managed to take one more step. Suddenly, her entire person was violently twirled about by the wrists. Compelled by the chain, which was firmly within Marlowe's left hand, Kagome took forced, faltering steps toward the horseman. In a moment, she was looking into a very stern face.

Wrapped in his armor, Marlowe appeared like a great furnace, with a face of flame and blonde hair that emitted sparks. He rasped, "That's quite enough!" Somehow, he managed to keep from exploding, despite his reddened cheeks, his harsh eyes, and tight fisted grip on the chain.

In a calmer voice, "That's _quite_ enough," he repeated. "It has been through my good graces as a good host that you have enjoyed the privileges given to you, thus far. However, I have stood for your impertinence for as long as I so desire."

Kagome nearly panicked as Marlowe, using a strength earned from years of manual labor, easily hoisted her light frame a full foot from the ground. The churlish furnace hissed, "You are now an East India employee, in the service of England. See to it you act accordingly!"

"But," Kagome's voice threatened to crack under the intense pressure, "I'm not English…"

"Neither is Polaris."

An owl hooted the late hour in the wilderness, a horse snorted in dull-witted boredom, and a length of chain jingled lightly as a young woman began to rediscover her footing on the ground. The next sound to break the calm was a low, distinct volume of Japanese words that were carefully breathed out of English lungs and lips.

"Polaris was once in the service of a wretched Portuguese merchant, whose fortunes had taken a decided turn for the worse. Despite being sold to pay off debts, the little African was very loyal to his former master. Another tribe of black savages, when he was a mere babe, had captured him and sold him to the Portuguese when he was old enough to carry out orders. All he had known was the Portuguese world, the Portuguese language, dress, religion, and every other vile Portuguese thing. Needless to say, he was very desirous to leave my service.

"One night, as we were cruising off the coast of your island, Shikoku, he managed to jump overboard and swim for shore. I had paid too much to let go of the boy, so several men and I went ashore and quickly apprehended him. Unfortunately, the robbers and _ronin_ of the island did not like dealing with outsiders and gave chase to us. One man they killed outright and we were forced to abandon him. Another man they fatally wounded, but he made it back to ship and died of his wounds a few days later.

"I had had enough of Polaris's abstinence, just as I have had my fill with yours now. I locked Polaris in with the dying man. He stayed with and received his meals there, watching the results of his rebellious nature. I then kept him locked with the corpse for a week thereafter. Finally, he began pounding on the door, screaming, 'Me no 'scape! Me no 'scape!' That was a year ago

"Polaris soon learned that I could be a terror in his life, a cruel and violent man with whom he would have no hope, only misery. However, when he repented of his misdeed, he learned with greater rapidity that I could be his friend and confidant. But, only if he realized how generous I could be, rather than retain his savage and stupid habits. To that end, he has diligently attempted to adopt as many English mannerisms as his small mind can retain. Ultimately, he has come to love me, in return I hold nothing but my fondest feelings of warmth."

Kagome's eyes were upturned at this absolutely gargantuan man. She felt small and meek, now, in the presence of this mortal from another world. Her upturned eyes were deep pools of sorrow and horror met by the downcast steel of Marlowe's. For her, Polaris was a boy whose spirit and will to resist were broken, ground beneath an unrelenting will that towered over his. She realized that she could not let the same happen to her. But, how would she resist? What force _could_ resist this man?

"_Now, then. Forward lads."_

Kagome only resumed her portion of the trek when the fat little man, better known as Simon Crick, came alongside her and gave a tug to her chains. She made the remainder of the journey with downcast eyes.

* * *

"Guard! Guard!" 

The machinery was set in motion, and success lay in Shippo's small hands. It was he who stood at the cell-door, calling for the sentry on duty. When the watchman came to the locked door, he was greeted by one of his counterparts.

"Hey," the suspicious watchman queried as he glanced in the small peephole. "How'd you get in there? I don't remember seeing you come in."

"What's it to you," Shippo snapped, fighting back an amateur's concern that he had been discovered.

"Oh," the man on the opposite side of the door was taken aback by this kind of audacity. "Look buddy, my memory is pretty sharp. If I'm not mistaken, I don't remember letting you in there."

Shippo's courage ebbed. The disposition of his intended victim was something he hadn't planned on. In a flash, however, he reminded himself that failure was potentially fatal and rose to the occasion.

"Idiot! The shift before yours opened the door for me so I could interrogate the prisoners! Now," he rattled the door with his all his might, "open this door, or I'll 'interrogate' _you_! Now!"

The guard quailed under Shippo's impressive antagonism. Instead, his suspicions about this man were directed toward his sanity, rather than his identity. Fearfully, he made all haste to loosen the door for the impostor. As soon as the tumbler clicked, the door quickly swept inward and Shippo strolled out, a look of confidence on his face. As Shippo passed before him, the cowed sentry took notice of something unfamiliar.

"Wait a minute," the guard said as his suspicions returned. "What's that?"

"Huh?"

Shippo sheepishly regard himself. The both his and the guard's collective attention was guided toward the unmistakable tail snaking out from underneath his clothing. The "adorable" appendage threatened its possessor's life.

"Well," Shippo stammered, "you see-"

"Now!"

Before Shippo could fumble with an explanation, or before he or the guard could react, the latter was tackled to the ground by the interned trio. Once his mind caught up the series of events, Shippo joined the daring assault. With the wrenching and coiling of mortal and supernatural bodies, the short-lived struggle was quickly decided in the favor of the four atop the guard. Hardly a sound had issued forth since Inuyasha's command had been given. A few grunts, the rustling of some clothes, and dull thuds were all that could be heard. The crescendo came with a sharp cracking sound. In moments the guard was subdued, bound, and gagged.

"Whew!" Shippo sighed, reverting to his usual form. "Am I glad that worked!"

"Even though you nearly blew it," Inuyasha reprimanded.

"I can't believe you, Miroku," Sango scolded the monk, not paying attention the others for good reason.

Miroku, wearing his guilt in a red mark across his cheek, defended himself. He protested the accusation with dignified resilience, "In such a chaotic scuffle, how can you be sure of who grabbed what?"

"How can you say I nearly messed up? You're still out of your cell, aren't you?" Shippo was arguing against his own prosecutor.

"Because," the two accusers simultaneously exploded, "I know how you are!"

Adamant prosecution, such as this, was enough to make the shaky defenses of the accused collapse and the defenders to shrink before the determined scowls of their friends. Like naughty children, they apologized and admonished forgiveness, which was reluctantly granted. However, just like naughty children, the fox-demon and monk were inwardly unrepentant and made notes to recidivate.

With one guard occupying their former quarters, and the other guard tied to the prison bars and gagged, the escapees made for the nearest exit from the castle dungeon. Unsure of whether or not time was on their side, they had already decided that they would rescue Kirara first.

**

* * *

**

Meanwhile, in the courtyard of the same castle, English sailors, well armed and well-trained, stood in ranks of two, six abreast. To their front, Marlowe again stood before the lord of the castle.

"So," the lord languidly greeted, "you have returned, Marlowe."

"Yes, your lordship," the English bowed, hat in hand, with great flourish, and relish. "Although, when we part this time, you will gain a power unheard of in your domain."

"And you, a man with greater wealth?"

Marlowe stoically accepted the questioned, then smiled with feigned innocence, "Perhaps."

The lord only responded with a grunt.

Clearing his throat, Marlowe began his final sales pitch to the master of this particular castle. "Your lordship, I present to you, the actual destruction of the fiercest of creatures to step its unholy paws into your lands. Witness, with your own eyes, the righteous might of European firearms over one of the oldest and most formidable monsters to plague your ancient islands. After tonight, you will be able to smite the entire devilish host of Hell itself!"

A wave of the captain's hat directed Samuels conduct the gunners into action. A simple "wheel right" and Kirara was put to their face. Away from the line, Kagome stood horrified and powerless, while Crick held the reins of Marlowe's horse and the chains of Marlowe's new crewmember.

"Stop this!" She shrieked, "You have no _right_ to do this!"

Marlowe focused all his senses on the intended target. Kagome had might as well be back aboard the _Elizabeth_. Only Crick made any undertaking to curb her tongue and tugged at her chains. "Now, now," the stubby English grumbled as the chain jingled.

"Kirara! Don't just stand there! Fight back! Run away, do something!"

Like the men around her, Kirara paid no mind to the shrill voice in their midst; trapped in a mystic stupor. The only response to Kagome's words was the incomprehensible English Samuels barked to the gunners.

"Make ready!"

The first rank knelt down, while the second rank raised their weapons.

"Take aim!"

Both ranks opened their flash pans, placed their fingers on their triggers, and began sighting the dull-witted target.

Though the thoughts of everyone present were as diverse as the persons themselves, every heart beat with greater rapidity as anxious energy entered their blood. None of them were truly sure what would be the result of the coming event. Only Kagome feared the chance of success. The girl's fears and outraged sensibility flooded her every emotion, driving her eyes to tears and her breaths to come in heaving sobs.

"If you allow this to happen," Kagome's words were cracking and warbled into the still air, "I'll never forgive you! I'll hate you forever!"

Marlowe ignored her. Without thinking about looking to Kagome, the captain looked directly into Samuels eye. The second mate held his hand overhead, prepared to give physical and verbal commands. The captain nodded.

The hand fell.

**_To Be Continued…_**


End file.
